The Calculative Conundrum
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: Mycroft has a very invaluable resource at his disposal. He simply has to ask. Prompt from Chaosisblue. Hope you like it. Rated M for well...for reasons.


So, this is for Sarah, aka Chaosisblue, who has been wanting a Mycthea or Anthoft fic for awhile now. Hope you like it.

**I don't own either of these awkward characters, just this story. :D**

The Calculative Conundrum

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_'He's gone to Baker Street. - A'_

_'Thank you. Now, I need you to return home. There is some business we need to attend to. - M'_

_'Yes, Sir. - A'_

"_Bye." She said, waiting for him to climb out of the car._

"_Yea, okay." She watched as John Watson left the car._

_The brunette sat back in her seat, smiling to herself. In the previous five years of her employment with the diplomat, she had learned everything about him. Everything from how and when he took his tea, to the way he had his socks pressed. (Yes, socks.) However, she never would have suspected he was like other, ordinary men when it came to his more 'physical' requirements. He was hardly romantic, and at times, even a bit awkward in his approach, but Mycroft Holmes was still essentially a man._

_**One Year Previous:**_

He looked himself over in the mirror, brushing aside a stray hair that had fallen out of place. It had been, as they say, a very long day. The tension in his neck was incredibly worse than normal, and even removing his vest had not lessened the dull ache that crossed his shoulders. It was as he sat in his study, sipping on his glass of scotch, that a light knock was heard from the door.

"Yes, come in." Mycroft said stoically. The door opened, and he watched as the petite assistant entered.

"Sir, I've done as you asked, and moved up the luncheon with the Bulgarian Prime Minister to Thursday, and pushed back your visit with the Queen to Friday. Is there anyth..." Anthea stopped mid-sentence as she finally looked up at her boss. She had never seen him in such a state, and she immediately crossed to stand in front of him.

"Sir, is everything alright?" He looked up at her, to see a slight look of concern on her features. He nodded his head, before taking another swig of his drink.

"Thank you, Anthea. Yes, I am alright. Simply too much time holding poor posture while looking at treaty negotiations." He smiled, just faintly enough for her to catch the tiredness in his eyes. In a swift move, Anthea had set down her mobile, and was now pressing her thumbs into his shoulders. Mycroft, was, in a word, surprised. He would have asked what she was doing, were it not for the glorious relief that spread out over him, all stemming from her startlingly strong hands.

"I studied massage therapy for a year, sir. You required it, if you remember. But you've never asked me to assist you like this. Sorry to be so forward sir, but you are very tense." Her voice washed over him as he started to relax.

"I hadn't forgotten. I merely thought that perhaps you would find it inappropriate. I didn't want to offend." He answered quietly, and sighed as she hit a particularly thick knot.

"Believe me, sir. There isn't anything you could say or do that would offend me." She said in an equally quiet voice. She pressed into the spot harder, and was shocked as her composed employer let out a deep moan. Anthea moved her hands away, but saw his body tense up right as she did.

"Don't stop now." He snapped out, before he turned and looked at her. "I mean, please. Please continue, Anthea." Mycroft sat back in his chair again, and she moved back into place, hands working out the harsh stress point.

"After nearly an hour of silence, apart from Mycroft's occasional groan of relief, Anthea's hands gently moved away. She swept a single hair back into place from his forehead. Realizing her bold and affectionate gesture, she quickly made her way to the door.

"Thank you, Anthea." Mycroft muttered. She nodded, and left him to his thoughts in the study. (A terrible idea, really, considering the state she'd left him in.) Mycroft had debated whether or not he should pick up his phone. Finally he did.

_'Perhaps you could do that again sometime. - M'_

The response came a few minutes later.

_'That would be alright. - A'_

he smiled happily, grateful for the promise of her talented hands at his disposal. He then sent off a follow up text.

_'Perhaps we could arrange for supper before, if that would be acceptable. - M'_

He nervously hit the send button, and waited. Just moments later, his mobile chimed again.

_'Are you asking me to dinner, sir? - A'_

Mycroft had almost choked on his held air, afraid that he had perhaps crossed a line of professionalism. He then remembered her statement from earlier.

"_Believe me, sir. There isn't anything you could say or do that would offend me."_

_'Yes, I am. Is that alright? No business, of course. Strictly pleasure. - M'_

He sat back, when he realized his choice of words at the end. He had swore he typed 'social'. Just as he was about to text her an apology, he received a reply.

_'Yes. Tell me when. - A'_

OoOo

It was the following evening when he had arranged for their meeting. Anthea arrived by car to his townhouse, just as she had many times before. As she strolled into the entryway, the aroma of beef and roasted potatoes greeted her.

"Ah, Anthea. Please, make yourself at home. Dinner has just finished." Mycroft smiled a bit, before leaving for the other room. Anthea set down her bag and coat by the bench at the door, and stepped out of her tall shoes. It felt nice to be off of them for once, and she soon wandered into the kitchen. There, by the stove, stood Mycroft. A tea towel was flung over his shoulder, and he pulled the large pan of food from the oven with care.

"Sir, is there anything I could help with?" She asked after watching him for a moment. Mycroft looked up and gave her a quick grin, before motioning for her to join him at the dining table.

"Mycroft, please. There's no need to be so formal with me. We've been in each others' company for years now. It would make me feel so much more at ease knowing you could feel comfortable around me. The only thing I need for you to do is to sit right there, while I go fetch us something to drink." He was gracious as he pulled out her chair, leading her to sit as he pushed it in behind her. Anthea nodded her thanks and watched as he left the room once again. When he returned, along with a bottle of what appeared to be very _very_ old wine, she looked around in suspicion.

"Sir...Mycroft, where is Therese? Doesn't she normally serve your dinner?" Anthea eyed him with a bit of a smirk, and he finally chuckled.

"Yes, she does. In fact, I will confess, she did at least cook the meal. However, I saw it as more of an opportunity for such a social visit if I didn't have us waited on by the staff. Please, allow me." He said, before standing and serving up her plate. Anthea watched him with a careful eye as he cut into the beef, and then lifted some of the potatoes from the brothy pool they sat in. He then handed her plate back, and returned to dishing out his own food. Mycroft then poured them both some wine, and sat back in his place.

Dinner passed with very little talk. In fact, the only things said beyond comments of the dinner and the bleak weather of the day, were their remarks about the previous evening.

"I hope I did not startle you with my reaction." He awkwardly said, looking at her. Anthea chuckled a bit, before shaking her head.

"Not at all. Actually, I was rather shocked that it only happened that once, considering how stressed your muscles are. If I might, I'd like to make this a regular thing. It doesn't seem right to have such an important position, and have no way of releasing all that tension." Anthea wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin that had sat on her lap. She waited for his answer, watching with amusement as he considered her offer. After a few moments, he nodded.

"You make an excellent point. I agree." Mycroft answered with a curt voice. They returned to silence, even after the fourth glass of wine had been emptied. Soon, he stood, and took their plates away. When he returned, Anthea had already moved into the large and relaxing living room. She had moved his chair slightly, so that it sat more in front of the fire that burned in its hearth. Mycroft walked over and sat down, making sure to undo the buttons of his vest, and removing it as well before he did so.

Anthea started right away. Her hands had found the tense spots with ease, having remembered where they were from the previous night. He slipped into a state of relaxation a bit quicker than before, and focused on the sound of her breathing as it helped to lull away his stress. Again, Anthea's hands found a rather tight spot between his shoulder blades, and Mycroft winced with the unexpected pain.

"Relax, sir." Her voice called quietly.

"I thought I said to call me Mycroft." He answered, chuckling a bit as she sighed in frustration. A sharp dig with her thumbs into the knot again, and he yelped in surprise.

"Yes, and I. Said. To relax." Anthea punctuated her words with the pressure of her hands, as she worked on the spot. Finally feeling him loosen up and breathe out, the large and hard bump started to loosen itself. The brunette woman smiled proudly as she heard him breathe out a heavy sigh.

"You really are invaluable, my dear." He mumbled, almost incoherently. Anthea could hear the slight slur in his words, obviously the effects of the wine from their dinner. She watched as the same stray and wild curl fell from its slicked back position, twirling down and laying across his forehead. She chuckled a bit, and her hand swept it out of the way. As her nails raked across the skin of his brow, she saw him twitch. Quite visibly, too. Anthea was afraid she'd done something wrong, afraid she'd gone too far again, and her hands moved back to resume their post.

"That felt...nice. Would you mind terribly?" He peered up at her, his eyes curious, hopeful. Anthea nodded, and her fingers began prodding at his temples. Mycroft immediately sank a bit lower in his chair, a low purr of approval slipping out. Anthea looked down, and her eyes widened as she saw his hands grip his legs. As she followed his hands up a bit, she noticed the source of his sudden stress. The woman bit her lower lip, unsure of how to continue. This was Mycroft Holmes after all, he didn't have interest in physical release. _Or did he? Clearly he must have some, or else she wouldn't be massaging his scalp._

His eyes had opened, and he was staring boldfaced at her now. It was then that Anthea realized her hands had stopped, and she had been caught, clearly staring at the bulge in his trousers. Her breath hitched, and she moved away a bit.

"I...I am sorry, Mycroft...sir. I didn't know. I didn't mean to..." She was nervous now. Very nervous. Clearly a boundary had been crossed, and he would dismiss her shortly thereafter. As she moved away though, his hand came up to grab hers, fingers intertwining right away.

"Anthea, my dear. It's perfectly alright. You are not to blame. Well, for this _particular_ issue, you are, I suppose. However, you aren't to blame for the situation." He sighed out, releasing her hand so that she could leave. He was aware, too, that things had become different in that one short moment. Expecting to hear her quickly depart, Mycroft was utterly shocked when he looked up to find her standing in front of him now.

"Well, Mycroft. If I am part of the issue, perhaps I could be part of the solution as well. If that isn't entirely too uncouth." She gave off the smallest of grins, to which the posh man felt a shiver slide up his spine. Before he knew what was happening, she had moved again, this time straddling his lap in the large wing-back chair. His breath hitched again, louder this time, as she adjusted her stance against his groin.

"You don't...have to. Anthea, really." He said in a breathless tone. However, she was clearly done listening to his attempt at logic, and was now leaning in to kiss him. After a brief touch of their lips, she leaned back a bit, looking him in the eyes.

"Was that okay? Or is it too much?" She asked with a slight concern in her voice. Mycroft could only nod his approval at her advances, and she smiled a bit wider, before kissing him again. This time, her lips didn't stop at one peck, or even two. Instead, they seemed to have affixed themselves to his own, and the two breathed out through their noses as they refused to separate. The man's hands didn't roam once, but rather, clung tightly to the arms of the chair as Anthea began to grind against him. Only when he felt the excruciating pressure of the seam on his zipper did he move to grip her hips tightly.

"Anthea, I need you to..." he cut himself off, coming to the horrible realization that he had absolutely no idea what he needed her to do for him. No idea of what he _wanted_ from her, just that it was her that was the answer. She smiled at him, and stood up for a moment, before pulling him to a standing position as well. She made quick work of his trousers, before pushing him back down into the chair. Another quick move, and her underwear were slid down onto the floor. Mycroft watched in amazement as she moved so quickly to rejoin him in the seat. However, things were much different now. Without the barrier of their clothing, he could feel every part of her as she rubbed against him. His hands had again glued themselves to the chair, and he grabbed hold tightly to the curves of the leather upholstery.

"Are you ready, Mycroft?" She asked softly into his ear. For all his usual diplomacy and eloquent vocabulary, the man underneath her could only nod his head fervently, absolutely ready for her to continue to the next step. She positioned herself at the tip of his length, before slowly easing down onto him. They both gasped at the feeling of it, and Mycroft had a hard time focusing on anything else beside that glorious sensation. Soon, Anthea built up a clever rhythm for them both, using the back of the chair as just the right amount of leverage. Soon, she felt him swell, and she looked down to see his face reddening with a desperate need for release.

"Anthea, I think...that is to say, I..." He tried forming a stream of words together, unable to think clearly as she moved against him rapidly.

"Please, Mycroft. Call me by my real name...just this once. Pl..please." She whimpered out, feeling herself approaching the blissful end. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, to see a smile of complete adoration on his face as he looked up at her. His hands finally moved, pulling her closer, and kissing her cheek as he bucked up to meet her. As he whispered to her, fulfilling her one request, she unraveled against him. She fell limply against his chest, and curled up into his hold as his arms found their mobility once more.

OoOo

_She closed the door to the car, and walked up the small pathway to the front door of the townhouse. Letting herself in, she set her bag and coat by the bench that still sat at the front door. She knew exactly where she would find him, and so she quickly toed off her heels and walked back to the large bedroom at the end of the hallway. She opened the door, and saw him standing and waiting for her._

"_Ah, hello my dear. Come, I thought we might go over the affairs of today." Mycroft motioned for her to lie down on the bed. She smiled a bit, before doing what he said. As she reclined back, he sat at her feet, and pulled one into his lap. Pressing down on the arch of her foot, the man began to massage away the aches from her long day of wearing the notoriously torturous heels. _

"_Thank you for this, Mycroft." She sighed, feeling her foot relax a bit. He grinned at her, watching her breathing deepen with each gentle prod._

"_Perhaps, for tonight, you could call me 'sir'?" He asked, a hint of hope in his voice. Anthea quirked a brow at him, before laughing and quickly sitting up to pull him back onto the bed with her._

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Well, there you go. I hope you liked that. Sorry, I'm not revealing Anthea's real name, even though I _could_ come up with a pretty cool one. Because, well, she's not my character, and so I don't have the right to do that. So, yea...I hope you liked this Sarah, and everyone else too, for that matter. Because dang it...this was so difficult to write. Alright, leave me a message, tell me what you think, please?


End file.
